Imperial Stars 1-The Stars at War (18 page)

Molane was first out. As soon as the port opened, he stepped onto the gangplank, halted there, one hand raised in greeting, serenely smiling. He was an impressive figure, all six foot six of him, black haired, golden skinned, gray eyed, wide shouldered. He waited for Lahaisa to come out to him. She took his arm. Together they walked to the pavilion.

After the pallid ghosts of Gilpin's Space, the sight before their eyes was dazzling. Brilliant banners and pennants whipped in the breeze. Everyone at the pavilion, the uniformed guard of honor, the King and Queen on their two thrones, everyone in the breathless crowd, all displayed an Elizabethan passion for color, for finery, for scintillating gems.

Four tabarded heralds blew three flourishes on crested golden trumpets, and King Edward stood, a man in his fifties, almost as tall as Molane and quite as straight. For moments, he looked penetratingly at his visitors, searching first Molane's eyes, then Lahaisa's. Obviously, he liked what he saw. He stepped forward, held out his hand.

"This is an Old Earth custom we have not forgotten," he declared. "Stranger, I am Edward the King."

They shook hands. "Come," the King said, and led them into the pavilion, the others of their Eight following after them. They stood while Molane introduced them one by one. They stood while the King himself introduced his Queen. Then he called to Lord Erris, proud, portly, diamonded, and he in turn introduced two Archbishops, of York and Canterbury, the Prime Minister and other civil dignitaries, a First Lord of the Admiralty and a Field Marshal, and a towering, turbanned Sikh, Sir Partab Singh, Viceroy of India. Molane felt that he was swimming in a sea of titles.

They were seated by uniformed equerries, and as Molane sat down Lord Erris whispered in his ear. "His Majesty," he said, "has decided there is no danger from you, and in this he is
never
wrong."

"He can see into the minds of men?"

"Infallibly. He cannot read your thoughts. It is simply that he can detect the slightest evil there."

Lord Erris sat down next to him. "First, before we converse, we shall be served refreshments. That is our custom. Your lady presently shall sit beside the Queen, and you beside His Majesty. Some of our food will doubtless be unpalatable to you. Do not hesitate to say so. You will give no offense."

Footmen appeared with small tables, table silver, napery. Swiftly, efficiently, they made ready for the food their fellows now were bringing: flagons of cool white wine, trays of small roasted birds, more trays of thin sandwiches on a variety of breads, salvers of steaming sea-crustaceans like nothing on Old Earth. Molane, watching them, felt a wave almost of
déja vu
; their liveries, like everything around him, were at once so uncannily familiar and, seen more closely, so alien.

They ate, slowly and with relish, realizing that whatever this culture lacked it was not the fine art of cookery, and finally there were toasts, from silver vessels like champagne flutes filled with a sparkling brandy. The first, proposed by the King-Emperor, was to his guests. The second, by Molane, to his gracious hosts, Their Majesties. The third, offered by the Archbishop of Canterbury, was to Gurat Singh, "Blessed be his Name!"

Then Molane and Lahaisa were escorted to sit beside King and Queen, who smiled at them.

"Your Majesty," Molane said, "shall I tell you what has happened on Old Earth since your ancestors went off so long ago?"

Instantly, the King's face was grave. "Molane," he answered, "I must tell you
no
. We want to hear nothing of the happenings on Old Earth. It is your world, and this world is ours, and here we not only have all we need, but we feel we are fulfilling a great purpose. After we tell you our own history since the landing and the coming of the Eater, you will understand why this must be so. We will remember you with pleasure, but we do not want you to come again. We have our own ways, our own beliefs, our own arts and sciences, all developed because the Eater came and destroyed, and forced us to build anew. This we could not have done had we not had The Book."

"The Book, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, Molane, The Book that Providence decreed Gurat Singh would bring with him. Before you leave, we will show it to you." Again he smiled. "But I feel that there are many things we do that you would like to change. For instance, you were shocked to learn that we still fight wars?"

"I was, Your Majesty."

"Very well, we fight them because The Book informs us that they are part of man's heritage, that wise men never tried to abolish them completely, but instead did their best to ritualize and ameliorate them. In the Twentieth Century, according to the memories written by our ancestors, there was a change. Instead of trying to limit war, the world tried to outlaw it—and the result was war after more terrible war, culminating in that awful fear from which Saul Gilpin saved us. Besides, war has its challenges—like dangerous, strenuous sports it can bring out the very best in men. What do they fight for? Honor and glory, and this we share with them."

Molane smiled sadly and shook his head, but he remained silent, and the King pointed at a uniformed equerry. "Look at Captain Harrion there," he said. "He has served in two wars, one against the Chinese Empire, another against the Europeans. He has killed more of the beasts whom those first Far Outers called dragons than any other man, with a spear, either on horseback or from a shooting-cycle. They are saurians, very savage, and very hard to kill. Yet he is a courteous, kindly, gentle man."

Out of the corner of his eye, Molane saw his son staring in awe at Captain Harrion, at his polished boots, his spurs, his braided uniform in gold and green, at the jeweled insignia on his epaulettes and the panoply of decorations on his chest.

More toasts followed, then a parade of troops, first cavalry with a mounted band, then infantry with its own music, then artillery, some drawn by horses, some by sleek, silent, self-propelled vehicles. Aircraft, silent except for the sound of their propellers, flew overhead, and all was done with brilliance, to perfection. When the final band had passed, and its disturbingly reminiscent music had died away, King Edward turned back to Molane. "And now," he said, "His Grace of Canterbury, who is best qualified to do so, will tell you what happened to our ancestors and what we have accomplished since."

The Archbishop, a square, solid man in black and saffron, wearing a stiff white collar and a large pectoral cross, smiled at them, but with no real warmth.

"In those days," he began, "Earth, as you know, was on the verge of suicide. It was a grace and a mercy that when our ancestors fled into space they had as their leader our
sant
, Gurat Singh—blessed be his Name!—who embraced all religions within his teaching, showing them how to live together, and we might live like men with man's heritage. But I proceed too quickly. Our ancestors landed in what the Far Outers' report had stated was the most fruitful valley on this island. And they gave thanks that our
sant
had led them there, for our sensors, which were then still working, corroborated what the Far Outers had reported—nothing growing here, neither trees nor grasses, flowers nor beasts nor insects, was seriously inimical to man."

He and the Royal couple and his fellow Archbishop momentarily bowed their heads.

"Then, on the third day, the Eater came. Our nuke-paks were drained in an instant. Every channel along which force might flow was ruined. Every microchip became totally useless. We no longer had our libraries. We no longer had the music or legends or scientific textbooks of Old Earth. Our ancestors were not rich men, so all our ships were crowded, with medical supplies, with food, and with all those living creatures our
sant
had told us we could not leave behind, our horses and our cattle, our sheep and cats and dogs—the beasts themselves, and not their frozen seed. For lack of space, every work of reference, every personal note, even the works of Gurat Singh himself had been recorded electronically.

"We lost all, everything, even our small devotionals, which we then used to carry everywhere.

"Only one thing remained—The Book. The Book that Gurat Singh himself had brought. And it was then, when we were in despair, that for the first time he brought it forth and showed it to us.
'Listen!'
he said. 'You say all is lost. Even the words of Gurat Singh are lost. That last is true. But everything is not lost, for in this Book is recorded all that was best in the history of Old Earth. And there is recorded also much of what was worst. But the very worst is not recorded, for it occurred after The Book was written. It is with this Book, my children, that you build the civilization of your new world.'

"Those first decades were hard indeed, but this island is not only richer and more clement than the others, it has none of the ferocious creatures that still infest so many areas of our continents. Our winters here are severe but endurable, our summers are seldom really hot. Even so, I do not know what we would have done had Gurat Singh not planned for us. From the start, everything was methodical. We began harvesting native fruits and grains and wild vegetables, herbivorous native mammals, and fish from our waters; and we successfully established the animals we had brought with us. Nor was that all. Everyone with a skill, everyone with special knowledge of any kind, was required to contribute to books of memories, and printing and papermaking were among the first of our simple industries, for it was absolutely essential that every section of The Book was reproduced as soon as possible.

"Gurat Singh lived more than forty years after we arrived, dying when he had almost reached his hundredth year, and when he died he left his Testament, a document which has guided us ever since. First, from The Book, he told us that only one form of governance on Old Earth had ever had stability and permanence and a high measure of security for peoples, and that was empire. 'So!' he said, 'You must prepare, for in two more centuries you will be ready. On Earth, the greatest empires were the Chinese, the Roman, and the British. I enjoin you to rebuild them here. This island we shall call Great Britain, and those of you who came from England, America, Australia, shall consider it your motherland. The second of our middle islands we shall name Austro-Italy, and there shall be the center of the new Roman Empire. Its capital shall be Vienna, and there shall be a Pope in Rome. Finally, on our largest island, the Chinese Empire will once again come into being, ruled by a new Son of Heaven from Peking. Why do I thus counsel you? Because it would not be well for one Empire to rule the world. As for the island we shall call India, it will be included in the British Empire, for under British rule India was united and ruled by law, and as soon as Britain left it fell again into virtual anarchy, ethnic group against ethnic group, sect against sect. As for your laws, The Book will teach you all you need to know, The Book and your compiled memories. You will have three great Empires, but you shall have one language, that in which The Book is written. Your other languages may be learned and spoken, but English shall be the language of education and diplomacy, science and the arts, for I can foresee the day when you will recreate your sciences, and then a confusion of tongues would only hold you back.' "

The King thanked him. "Our ancestors worked long and hard," he said, "and when the Empires were established, we adopted the practice, which we have followed ever since, of the three reigning Emperors or Empresses, for we have had both, holding council thrice a year with the leaders of the great religions and with the
sant's
Successor in New Delhi. This we do whether we are at war or not, and always we abide by the decision of this Imperial Council, for we recognize that it is the decision of Gurat Singh himself. Before you landed, I communicated with my fellow Emperors, and they agreed that three days should be the duration of your visit. Tomorrow you shall visit their Imperial capitals, their island nations. Next day you will be shown our vast continents, their settlements, their wildlife and, if you wish, the war zone. Then, before you leave, you will be allowed to see The Book."

"You Majesty is gracious," Molane said. "I gather that you want us to travel in our own vessel?"

"Certainly, Molane. Our aircraft, while they serve our purposes, are slow and primitive by comparison."

"And will Your Majesty come with us?"

The King shook his head. "That would be improper. As King-Emperor, I cannot permit myself to be con—" He hesitated, and Molane knew he had almost said 'contaminated' "—being
in
fluenced by Old Earth, even so indirectly. However, you shall have Lord and Lady Erris as your guides, and Captain Harrion and his lady too. For the remainder of today, you shall tour this city and see something of our industries, our schools and universities and libraries, and how our people live."

He stood. The heralds blew three flourishes. The interview was over. Then Lord Erris also stood. "May I escort you to your ship?" he said. "You may want to freshen up before the cars arrive and we begin our tour."

"
Lapis Lazuli
, you've been recording everything?" Molane asked as soon as they were aboard again.

"Of course."

"Good. We probably have twenty or so minutes. Can you get us views of London in Saul Gilpin's time? Views and perhaps a general plan? First over-all, from the air or space—it was an enormous city. Then the heart of it, the most important parts, and one especially—Hampton Court Palace, if there was such a place."

At once, a screen came into being, covering an entire wardroom wall, and they were looking down on London, its great grayness cut by the Thames, Then they were zooming down, and
Lapis Lazuli
was delineating the City proper, showing them the Tower, and building after famous building, site after historic site.

"My choice has been pretty arbitrary," she told them, "but here's your Hampton Court Palace, which was about fifteen miles from the city's center."

They looked. Here, in general outline, was the same building, but at a second glance, a third, the differences appeared, as though its reincarnation on this planet had been evoked from sketches and memories of the edifice Cardinal Woolsey had built for his private pleasure. Its surroundings, too, were different, and yet, even here, there was an echo, a vague resemblance.